Page 139 of Red Flag
When my stomach hurt from how much I had cried, he guided me to the bed, where he tucked me in. He went to get in with me but I shook my head. “Not in those. They’re cold.”
He chuckled sadly and unzipped his leathers.
A fleeting thought struck me. Nix wasn’t atqualifying.
People would put two and two together, probably to make six, but this wouldn’t help our case.
“You’re not going to qualify for tomorrow’s race.”
“Don’t care,” he said, struggling to get off his boots in his hurry. “You’re my priority. You’re all I care about. There are millions of fans, thousands of races, hundreds of teams, butLivie, there is only one you. I will always choose you, it’s not a question.”
In just his boxers and top — all he ever wore under the leathers — he got into bed with me and pulled me close. I had no tears left to cry, my body was heavy with exhaustion. Each blink hurt.
“You’ve already missed so many points.”
I felt him shrug against me, stroking my hair like my dad used to. “There are other championships. I can make up the points. But this, and here, is where I need to be.”
“People will question where you are,” I told him.
“I think it will be pretty obvious where I am,” he said softly.
“You look like you’ve cheated on Clara.”
“We’ll handle it,” he said and kissed my forehead. “I know you’re great at your job, but how about we talk about you for a minute?”
I shuffled closer to him. “What is there to say?”
“So much,” he said. “There is so much. Starting with I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I put you in this situation. I’m sorry fornot listening. What you said last week… you were right; I’ve never been cared for like how you care for me. I don’t think I’ve given anyone the chance. Now, please let me care for you the same.”
“I just want to sleep,” I sighed. My eyes were so heavy.
“I promise you can in a minute,” he said, but the strokes of my hair were helping me drift off. “Livie, do you have a therapist?”
I was suddenly very awake. “No.”
After Dad’s death, I’d gone for a session. Then, after the funeral, I’d started to see someone else. I’d gone for a month. Then, when I thought I felt better, I stopped going.
I was fine. I was going through the motions. I wasfine.
His voice became awkward. “Do you think maybe… that would be a good idea? Someone to talk to?”
“Talking to people is what got me in this mess,” I snapped.
“No,” he said softly. “I am what got you in this mess. Me.”
“It was my decision,” I argued, placing my legs between his to warm up.
He rested his head atop mine. “Okay, let’s move on to what we do.”
“A therapist might be a good idea,” I admitted because I didn’t know what we did from here. I didn’t know anything out of this bed, my hold on him and the fact my life was now in shambles. “My attacks have been so bad this year.”
“I can sort that,” he said, his nod against my head. “I’ll get some names together and you can pick whoever you want.”
“People know we’re together,” I sighed.
It was nearly three months since Clara’s crash, but that was still too soon.
“We can deny it if you want,” he said on a particularly slowstroke of my hair. “If that’s what you want. But one day soon we’re going public. The world will know about us.”
